


002:"You smell nice."

by stalker_san



Series: 101 Fluffy Prompts [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Demons, M/M, Mild Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stalker_san/pseuds/stalker_san
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damien has a tantrum and everyone in hell must deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	002:"You smell nice."

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own South Park or any of it's characters. This is just a simple writing exercise for fun.
> 
> Just so you know, I suck at writing English accents. If you have one or have a few pointers, let me know and I will certainly be grateful. I'm just getting the hang of writing again, so please excuse any mistakes. Although, I do enjoy criticism of my style. :)

If there was one thing that Damien hated most, more than God and all his angels, more than Jesus-fucking-Christ himself, it would be that damned smell.

The smell of petrified flowers, essentials oils, and baby powder. Stuffed into a bottle and concentrated 100 times over for the final stench of idiocy and over-zealousness. The Veronica's Secret fragrances.

Damien hated that smell more than he hated anything else in existence. For one, His father used a few scents years ago when they became popular. Many prostitutes, unfaithful wives, and unfortunate teenaged girls dropped down from earth wearing the stench. The bottle-blondes and the ganguro came as well creating more havoc and demise in their wake. Hell turned into a battle zone between sulfur and… that perfume.

Satan's spawn would have any person (or creature) within a hundred-foot radius bathe in lava, regenerate and bathe again until they were completely clean of the foul toxin. Such punishments of peeling skin, ripping off fingernails, and having your ass raped by a pineapple went in hand with spraying the concoction. Very few angels in heaven tried the fragrance around the Anti-Christ. Michael himself to not daring to put it on after the last fight. They nearly collapsed all civilization and God banned the spray to be used as a "weapon" against Damien in fear of all life on earth.

Dealing with Lucifer himself was much worse as an entire portion of Hell was covered in that filth! Damien had to nuke Hell a few times just to breathe. Thankfully Lucifer's love affair with the stench ended and he moved on to obsess over the Lady Gaga Perfume. Not his favorite smell, but he'd prefer it over VS any day.

But there was the odor again.

"WHO FUCKING IS IT?" The Demon Prince yelled out. Fallen angels, monsters, Titans, and demons alike all stopped their regulated tasks of torture. Even the sinners froze in true fear over the angry yelling.

All was quiet but surely Damien could still smell the fragrance nearby. His eyes, once a cool black, now burned with the fires of hell. Two more eyes opened on his face and sharks teeth replaced the perfectly aligned rows of pearly whites. His horns protruded through messy black hair and claws sprouted from tanned finger-tips, changing the color from a rich olive to ebony. A sleek tail whipped the ground cracking the surface. Black leathery wings spread out, their strength lifting Damien into the red sky as fire and lava gushed from the earth and into the air taking casualties of hundreds of thousands.

"WHO HAS IT ON?!" The beast roared into the sky. Damien swooped down to grab a sinner, tearing them in half as one would tear paper and dropping his remains below. He did this consecutively, becoming more fearsome taking demons apart now, not caring who he happened to attack. All sense was gone.

Cries for Satan and Jesus were called for hoping one of them could stop the rampage. The occupants in hell running scurrying, trying to find an escape, or better yet, the dumbass spraying the scent.

Satan merely looked from his window and saved a tea cup that almost hit the ground. He hid in his bedroom.

A few hours later the rampage continued and no one had confessed. New sinners were dropping into hell and being thrown to the front of his assault. Demons had children to feed too, you know?

"I-Is this it?" Damian faintly heard the whimpered sound from down below. The monster turned from his recent victim. Detached head in one hand, leg in the other. He threw the body into a pit of boiling tar before and swooped down to find the voice.

The occupants in Hell moved very far from whoever said that, shedding a light on the culprit.

In the center stood Phillip Pirrup. No longer 9 years old but an astonishing young man, leaving his teens behind. His hair was long, past his shoulders now but it stayed golden. His ends are frayed and his hair was fuzzy in the heat, but it seemed as if the Sinner still tried to tidy it. His skin was smudged with dirt but his pale skin was still glowing. He wore his signature red coat, bow-tie and shorts. Now the shorts may have been a bit on the small side for him but it still complimented his figure. He had long legs with strong calves that shook as he was planted firmly in place. In his hands, finger-nails dirty and in need of a trim, was a pink bottle.

Damian slammed into the ground and walked slowly awards Pip. The British boy shivered, blue eyes teary, his frame beginning to shake as the Anti-Christ walked. He felt like prey, about to be eaten alive.

Nearing the blonde, Damien took a small whiff of the air surrounding Pip. No Veronica Secret Perfume but something else was in the air. He reached the blonde in a few long strides. The Beast was still a head taller than Pip as he stopped in front of the deceased mortal. All of Hell was silent, waiting to see what happened next.

Pip trembled as Damien stood directly in his personal-bubble, grabbing the thin shoulders. The Blonde thought he would be shaken to death much like countless others. However, Damien leaned forward, face pressing into the blonde's neck and inhaling deeply. Pip let the bottle drop from his hands and it rolled into the lava lake, sizzling before melting away in the abyss. Damien continued his ministrations on Pip, moving from the pale neck and going lower to Pip's armpits. He lifted the hand above pip's head. A burning flush covered Pip's face. As bizarre as this was no one could say a thing but watch in horror as the Prince of Hell sniffed Pip.

_Was this a type or humiliation torture?_  Pip thought as Damien clutched his red jacket, tearing it to shreds along with his dirty off-white shirt. Damien then continued to smell the British man along his chest. Large feverish hands pulling Pip towards the demon's body, immersing himself against the sweat soaked skin.

Damien began to salivate. All thoughts of murder vanished as he knelt in front of Pip and inhaled the aroma on his belly. He continued to go lower palming the tightness of Pip's bum and thighs through the blue shorts. Damien Thorn was intoxicated by the scent emanating from the Catholic.

Pip, finding it hard to stand when someone had their head in your inner thigh, finally buckled and landed on his ass, legs accidentally sprawled out before Damien. He let out a weak whimper as he found his legs lifted. The demon placing the pale limb over his shoulder and deeply inhaling Pip's groin.

By now even Lucifer was peeking through his window shades, wondering just what was going on. All citizens of Hell still watched, half in amazement, and the other in horror.

"O-oh D-dear," Pip cried as he felt Damien's large hands on the hem of his pants. "Da-Damien…"

Damien let out a guttural moan. There was a growing need to _possess_  that excruciatingly delicious smell. It didn't help that Pip was just helplessly letting him…

_Wait, what?_

The brunette lifted his head from the underside of Pip's thigh and was shocked to find that Phillip "Pip" Pirrup was laying and sniffling on the ground beneath him. His blue shorts sitting pretty low on his hips along with the pair of underwear. "Pip?" he asked letting one leg slide off his shoulder. He completed forgot about the… thing and was engrossed in a new smell altogether. Pip just sniffed and dabbed the tears off of his face with a part of his shredded shirt.

Phillip nodded shoulders shaking as he held back sobs.

Damien never felt bad about assaulting a person. This was **Hell.**  It happened from time to time. But seeing Pip covered in dirt, crying, and thoroughly molested moved something within him that was even stronger than that of his smell. "Fuck." he muttered, under his breath. He changed back into a more human like shape and removed himself from the young man. "What exactly are you doing here?" Damien asked on his haunches, turning to glare at the onlookers, who now ran in the opposite direction leaving the two alone.

"I-I wos givin' you tha bottle." Phillip said in his English accent, quite unlike the American English Damien was using. "You wouldn't stop."

The demon narrowed his eyes. "You're the one who sprayed that mess?" Eyes glowing red again.

Pip shook his head in denial. "You mutilated the ladies who did hav' the spray some time ago. The children in the nursery were waking up cause of all the noise and movement. Quite a scare you gave them." Pip raised his shorts, no longer exposing himself to Damien.

"That explained it.

"What are you doing dead?" Damien asked. He eyed Phillip. He knew that making him into a firecracker couldn't have killed him, although it should have.

"Well… I tried to save South Park from Barbra Streisand and she squashed me, right under her foot! I was nine years old, just about." Claimed the blonde getting some confidence back now that the Anti-Christ was talking normally and not a huge monster. And well… because I am a Catholic…"

"Was."

"Right-o! And here I am. Someone did offer me to baby-sit the tots in Limbo. I've been doing that for a few years now, rather than staying here..." Phillip trailed off watching the Anti-Christ now. He covered himself by sitting in a near fetal position, legs close to his chest. He began to play with his socks timidly as he waited for the Devil to do something.

Damien just took in Pip's appearance again, noting how he was shying away from him. The boy who never hurt a fly died… That must have sucked especially when he martyred himself and still wound up in Hell. Now he was baby-sitting brats who got a second chance at life when their new bodies called for them.

_No wonder I've never seen him around… or smelled him._

Damien started to drool. Eyes hazy again as he took in a good whiff of Pip. That NEED to possess him clawed its way back up, but was shut down as Pip squawked at the closeness. Not wanting to distress the avid crier any more.

"Let me get you back to my house." Damien said. "To get you a new shirt… and a bath." Before Pip could argue he grabbed Pip's arm and hauled him across Hell to his abode.


End file.
